The Small Things
by BulletBlaze
Summary: "Dude, you've gotta let me!" he yelled with an excited grin on his face, and how could Derek say no to that? So he didn't even try. It took some maneuvering, what with all of the people pressing in from all around, but the two eventually managed to get Stiles seated precariously atop Derek's shoulders.


**Title from 'All The Small Things' by Blink-182. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!  
_**

Loud music filled Derek's head, shook him from toes to fingertips, and made the air vibrate all around in time with the powerful guitar and the heartbeat of the bass. Bodies pressed into him from every side, but he didn't mind. Not with Stiles' right in front of him, tightly shoved against his chest.

Derek had never been a big music person. There were some groups he liked well enough, but never so much that he'd pay fifty dollars to watch them in a sweaty venue crowded with strangers that smelled like weed and body odor and a myriad of other overwhelming scents.

But Stiles loved it. He loved the music and the intimacy of the audience and the feeling of being surrounded by people that at least had this in common, that shared this one thing. He liked feeling connected to people, whether because of the things he's been through or by nature, Derek wasn't sure, but he didn't mind one bit. Because seeing Stiles like this was amazing- carefree and impassioned and not worried about the next disaster that was bound to strike. He was jumping with the music, slightly off beat, shouting the lyrics to whatever song was playing, and he was covered in sweat, and Derek could tell his feet were aching and he was so, so tired, but nothing stopped him.

Derek never got tired of seeing Stiles just enjoying things. Too often, they had to put a hold on everything in order to figure out how they were going to survive, and that included even the simplest of things, like listening to music or reading a book or just hanging out in general without any pressure.

It also put a serious damper on things like relationships. Derek and Stiles weren't _dating_ necessarily, and they hadn't kissed or anything, but they both knew something was there, and neither were ignoring or denying it. There were heated looks, lingering touches, tight hugs after fights. But there was no time. There was no opportunity to let this… this _thing_ develop.

They weren't complaining, though, because they were lucky they were even _alive,_ much less granted the time together they did have.

But there were moments like right then when they were alone together- well, not alone, but not surrounded by the pack- where Derek wished they could be allowed to be more. To just be given the chance.

Derek was pulled out of his thoughts by Stiles turning around and tugging on his sleeve. The singer of the band was saying something about everybody getting "fucking ready"; ready for what, Derek didn't know, but all around him he saw people climbing up onto their friends' backs and shoulders, and Derek had a feeling he knew what Stiles wanted.

"Dude, you've gotta let me!" he yelled with an excited grin on his face, and how could Derek say no to that? So he didn't even try. It took some maneuvering, what with all of the people pressing in from all around, but the two eventually managed to get Stiles seated precariously atop Derek's shoulders.

Stiles wasn't as light as he used to be; he'd gained more muscle over the years than his baggy tees and flannels let on. Of course, he was still thin and lanky, but at the moment, Derek was feeling pretty grateful for his supernatural strength.

The concert continued- bodies shoved closer, people with cameras stood by the stage, Stiles shouted and wriggled from his perch above the crowd.

And then Derek felt hands slide down the sides of his face, coming to a rest with fingertips just below his jawline. Looking up as far as he dared, Derek saw Stiles' smiling face looking back down on him.

Then Stiles was bending his body in half, curving his torso around the top of Derek's head, and Derek had to shove a foot forward to keep them both from pitching forward.

Just as Derek opened his mouth to yell at Stiles for being an idiot- again- Stiles' lips pressed briefly against his.

The kiss, if it could even be called that, lasted only a moment and didn't make full contact. It was off center by an inch or so and Derek's mouth was half open, about to tell the boy off. It was too short and too rushed and too jostled to make it really good.

But _god_ it was perfect.

Stiles straightened back up with happiness rolling off of him in waves, filling Derek's nose and his chest with contentment. Derek heard him make whooping noises as another song started, heard him laugh as Derek pinched his knees, and couldn't hold back a smile.

Maybe this _thing_ had developed a little more than he had realized. The thought made him smile even more.


End file.
